


A Wild Life

by barbex



Series: The Exciting Life of Zevran [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:37:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbex/pseuds/barbex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How meeting the Warden pulls Zevran out of his depression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wild Life

_My contribution to Zevran week, a little ficlet of how Zevran joins the Grey Warden. Written with a female elven warrior Warden in mind. This is a bit raw and unbetad, sorry._

_Inspired by this quote from a poem by _Mary Oliver:__

_Tell me, what is it you plan to do_  
_with your one wild and precious life?_

* * *

 

It is reassuring to see the sun rise and know that it is the same one here in Ferelden as the one in Antivan. Not that it mattered much to Zevran where he was at any point in time. The Crows had sent him here, to the cold wildness and the cities of falling kings and he didn’t ask why and for how long. He doesn’t ask many questions at all nowadays. There isn’t much difference from one job to the next: find the target, kill the target and leave unnoticed.

He likes the part of slipping in and out of a mansion unnoticed, deciding himself how much he wants to be seen. Getting in was never really difficult for him, there was always a way for a charming elf like him. It might be a handsome man looking for an adventure or a lonely lady, long neglected by her husband, or sometimes just the milkmaid or the stable keeper who would invite him in for a night of laughter and pleasure. They never notice when he leaves in the middle of the night, their sleep deep and calm from the pinch of deathroot that he mixed in their wine.

Getting out undetected can be difficult sometimes but on more than one occasion his charms saved him then as well. Even guards can be distracted by a little fun and careful hands.

It’s always the same.

He is so tired of it.

Rinna is dead. Beautiful, clever Rinna, killed by his own blade. He thought her a betrayer but she had just been a piece in the play that the guild mother is playing. Everyone is a player in the assassins guild and the best players are at the top. Others die.

He is so tired of it all.

He never had many dreams. An orphan elf child, raised in a brothel – there was never much he could look forward to. But this… what kind of life is this even?

He looks around at the men at his side. He has picked most of them specifically for this job. There is Kerlos, who likes to beat the women, who he picks up in Inns, until their bones crack. There’s Leveron, another elf, who likes to make his targets suffer, long and painful. Outside of the light of the fire sits Gerd, a human, he likes to pick targets that have young children and do horrible things to them. The other five men and women are mercenaries that Leveron brought along, they have hard eyes. They probably won’t be missed by anybody.

Tiljina wanted to come along too but Zevran has given her the money he had saved for those fine Antivan boots and told her to buy new knives for him, to stop her from coming along. He won’t need the knives but she will probably make good use of them. He won’t need new boots either when he goes to face two Grey Wardens. He can die just as well in these old boots.

He looks down at the worn, soft leather. There is something poetic about dying in old boots and if he had the peace of mind, maybe he would write a little something about it.

The sun is up and finally lends some warmth to these cold lands. Zevran stands up and shakes off the shivers and stomps around to get his feet to warm up. Further down the road, he can see the broken down wagon they’d placed in the road. The mother and her children sit there, it had been Leveron’s idea to employ them to set up this trap. He also sent her youngest son ahead down the road to watch for the Wardens and Zevran just hopes that the boy knows these parts as well as he had said. He hates the idea of this lure but he could hardly say no without raising suspicions.

Just now the young boy comes running down the road, waving his arms. The others have seen him too and put out the fire. They nod at each other, knowing that it begins now and pick their hiding places at the side. Zevran runs up to the wagon, ignoring the angry shouts from the other assassins. The woman is already walking towards the Wardens and their companions to tell them her sad tale.

Zevran looks over the group. It’s an impressive array of different people. There’s at least two staff bearers among them and a big warrior in heavy armor. That must be the other Grey Warden, the one they rumor to be of noble descent. Next to him is a smaller figure in armor, lithe and slim. She has taken off her helmet and Zevran can see elven features, red hair and a scowl that speaks of barely contained anger.

She is his target.

Zevran grabs the boy by his shoulder and makes him look at him. He hands him the coins they’ve been promised and he puts another one in the boys hand and says: “Take your family and run as fast as you can. Don’t look back.” The boy nods and grabs his sisters and runs towards the bushes, his mother following them.

Zevran turns around and grins at Leveron as he shouts, “Attack the Wardens!” The other assassin look at him like he’s mad, as the mercenaries run forward. The others are reluctant to leave their covers, they are shadow killers, not warriors. An open attack like this puts them at a disadvantage and Zevran can see the suspicions rise in Leveron’s and Gerd’s eyes.

He waits and lets the Warden’s group come towards him. Kerlos runs passed him, his sword raised and he throws himself into the fight. Gerd follows him but stops at Zevran’s side. “You fool, you’re getting us all killed,” he yells at him.

“That’s the idea,” Zevran says with a smile and his dagger finds the other man’s heart. He almost has to laugh at the surprise in his face.

He leaves the man dying and walks towards the fight. The mercenaries are long dead and Kerlos is just about to get his head ripped off by a giant spider. Leveron has attacked the big Warden warrior and Zevran can see that he realizes his mistake just about now. A smile spreads on his face, soon this will all be over.

He raises his daggers and starts to run towards the Warden, his target. She is a capable warrior, she has nothing to fear from him. Just before her sword can behead him, magical ice hits him in the chest. Deathly cold spreads through him and he falls.

He closes his eyes and welcomes the end of dreams. How fitting to die of ice in these cold lands.

The darkness makes way for light and pain. Apparently he is not dead. How embarrassing.

He opens his eyes and sees boots. Small boots, made of good leather. Not quite as good as Antivan boots but not bad for Ferelden. He is lying face down on the cold ground and he has to strain his neck to look up. He recognizes the scowl of the elven Grey Warden. A few strands of her red hair are braided and tied with little colorful ribbons. She has no markings on her face, except for the lines of anger and frustration, edged deeply into the skin between her brows. Now he can actually appreciate her eyes. They are beautiful, a deep green with golden spots shimmering in them. Currently those eyes also have murderous anger in them.

The cold still has a grip on his heart and he groans. “Ah, I rather thought I would wake up dead, or not wake up at all as the case may be.” He leans up on his elbows to get a better look at the Grey Warden. “But it seems you have not killed me yet.”

Her eyes narrow and her voice is deep and harsh when she speaks. “I have questions. You will answer.”

“Oh, such an aggressive little minx. Quite lovely too,” he says and gives her his most charming smile.

Her hand on her sword tightens and her brows pull even closer together. Zevran swallows, this is obviously not the right way to speak to her.

“But if it’s questions you have, let me save you a little time and get right to the point,” he says in a more serious tone and just tells her everything. He tells her even more than he wanted and he finds himself captivated by those green eyes. She asks short questions and he freely tells her everything she wants to know. He wasn’t paid for silence and his life is forfeit anyway. So far, he has only delayed his death.

She doesn’t tell him to get up but her face has gone softer. She asks him about loyalty and an idea blossoms in the back of his mind. He could see himself swear his loyalty to her. A fine warrior and beautiful to look at as well, there could be worse ways to spend his remaining days.

And maybe it would finally be a fight worth fighting, something good and noble in this wretched world. It could actually be something to look forward to for once.

So he offers his services, promises her his loyalty and despite protestations by her companions, she accepts. There is a tiny twitch at the corner of her lips, like she wants to smile but doesn’t know how anymore. She holds out her hand to pull him up. He takes it and suddenly the coldness inside of him disappears. Her touch fills him with warmth and he wishes to see a smile on her face. She helps him up and for a second he is almost close enough to kiss her.

But he doesn’t. This isn’t some neglected lady or adventurous guard, this is a warrior woman worthy of respect and honor. And she needs to smile more, of that he is sure.

As he swears his oath of loyalty to her, he swears another one silently, just for himself. He will make her smile more, make that deep scowl go away and make those green eyes shine.

As he falls in step behind her among her companions, he feels light. A true smile spreads on his face. Such a turn this day has taken. Now, he even has a dream to look forward to.


End file.
